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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628932">Clean</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/clocksworks/pseuds/clocksworks'>clocksworks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Depeche Mode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Friendship, Gen, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Playing the Angel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:02:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/clocksworks/pseuds/clocksworks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin spirals out of control during his divorce. Dave has seen this all before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Clean</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'd always been interested in the friendship between Dave and Martin, so this is part of my take on it. Although I didn't tag this with a pairing, do take a closer look with a magnifying glass. ;)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>They usually get to work at least an hour before Martin is due to arrive. Fletch checks the furniture in the recording studio and the lounge, while it’s Dave’s job to inspect the control room and even inside the instruments. In the space of a few self-destructive months, Martin has grown exceedingly inventive and resourceful so they have to try and match him, if not outwit him. They’ve found liquor bottles and flasks hidden behind cupboards, equipment storage cabinets and even inside the Steinway grand piano. Nowhere is sacrosanct for Martin anymore.</p><p>Dave is familiar with all the signs, of course. More than anyone, he knows how charming addicts can be, how they can lie to everyone with a straight face - especially themselves. Martin had them convinced for months that he was fine, everything was fine, the situation was fine. Then the notary had turned up at the studio one Thursday afternoon to serve the divorce papers. Martin has been imploding ever since then. He’s not listening to anyone, not even a helpless Fletch who is bewildered about being shut out of Martin’s orbit for the first time in his life.</p><p>But the album has a deadline, so the show must go on. Dave and Fletch agree only because recording the new album is a valid excuse to keep an eye on Martin on a daily basis. The work does Martin more good than bad, but they usually only manage to get a few productive hours out of Martin everyday before he gets trashed out of his mind.</p><p>Today is particularly bad, because they can’t even finish at least one song before Martin disappears for a prolonged amount of time. Ben looks defeated, glancing at his watch despairingly before shrugging at Dave. Fletch is on a business call - probably talking to Kess about the legal repercussions of the album being delayed - so it’s up to Dave to make himself useful.</p><p>Dave knows an addict’s hiding places too, so he finds Mart on the fire escape outside the pantry, taking long pulls from a flask. “Hey,” he says as he climbs out, trying to brush away the hurt as Martin stiffens at his presence.</p><p>“Is it the vocals for ‘Macro’?” Martin asks. His words aren’t too slurred, but his gaze is unfocused.</p><p>Dave looks down at his clasped hands. “You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself, Mart,” he says gently.</p><p>“What?” Martin says defensively.</p><p>“You’re not stupid, so I’m not going to treat you like you are,” Dave says. It’s still a little fragile between them, despite Fletch’s efforts to broker a tenuous peace within the band. Dave wonders if Martin holds it against him for wanting to take on more of the songwriting duties. Only now does he understand Martin’s resistance; when things are falling apart around you, it is tempting to take the one thing you’ve always done well and turn it into your crutch. Dave had done it with his singing, back during the darkest times of his life. Martin must have thought Dave was trying to yank his crutch out from underneath him, kicking him when he was down.</p><p>If only he can make Martin understand.</p><p>“Give me five minutes.” Martin’s voice is dead and flat. “I’ll-- let me go freshen up.”</p><p>“Fuck’s sake, Mart,” Dave snaps. “This isn’t something you can solve with-- with fuckin’ washing your face. You need help. Let us get you professional help.”</p><p>Martin’s lips twist in a wry smile. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Yeah, I said that many times too,” Dave sighs. “Enough that I even believed myself. Whatever you’re doing now, I’ve done it before.”</p><p>“I highly doubt that,” Martin says.</p><p>Dave lets out a bitter laugh. “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, mate.”</p><p>“Don’t assume you know how I feel.” A thin note of anger is starting to creep into Martin’s voice. Truthfully, Dave is glad. Anything is better than that dead monotone earlier. “It’s not the same.”</p><p>“How is it not the same?” an exasperated Dave asks. He wants to bring up Martin’s kids so badly, but he knows it’s a low shot. When he’d been an addict, so many people had tried that angle with him - <em>what about Jack?</em> - and he’d only resented them all. It’d felt too much like emotional blackmail.</p><p>Of course Martin is hurting over his kids. Dave runs a hand through his hair, the words stoppered in his throat. Martin is still staring into space, his grip so tight on his flask that his knuckles are white.</p><p>“I almost lost everything,” Dave finally says. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did, Mart.”</p><p>“Lost everything?” Martin’s tone now has an accusatory, mocking edge. “You and TC were separated long before your divorce. It’s hardly the same thing.”</p><p>Anger flares up in Dave. “Well I wasn’t talking about TC now, was I?”</p><p><em>Now</em> he has Martin’s full attention. Martin is blinking up at him in confusion, probably trying to make sense of his fuzzy thoughts. “You-- I didn’t know you’d been seeing someone else then.”</p><p>“I wasn’t,” Dave says stiffly. “Didn’t stop my heart getting broken all the same, though.”</p><p>“Who was this?” Martin is sitting up, the flask in his hands forgotten. Dave’s hands itch for it now. “Wait, when was it again?”</p><p>Dave lets out a long sigh. “June 1995,” he says tiredly. He knows Martin’s too out of it to recognise the significance of the date; maybe he won’t even remember this conversation once he’s sober.</p><p>Martin is now looking at Dave with a kindred sympathy. “At least she didn’t send you divorce papers to the studio.”</p><p>“Worse, it was by fax,” Dave says. He holds out a hand to a confused Martin. “C’mon mate, let’s get you some water.”</p><p>Staring at Dave’s outstretched hand for the longest time, Martin finally concedes to take his hand, his grip tight but a bit shaky. Dave hefts him up, patting him on the back. He helps Martin climb through the little window back into the pantry. Martin drops into a seat at the little pantry table, and Dave gets him a glass of water.</p><p>“I know it sounds trite,” Dave says softly. “But you’ll heal. We all do.”</p><p>Maybe Martin doesn’t hear him, because he’s already slumped forward on the table, eyes shut and hair dishevelled. But Dave doesn’t mind. He removes the flask from Martin’s loosened fingers, turning his head away from temptation before he tips its contents down the sink. He watches the amber liquid circle the drainhole, thinking about a lifetime ago when he’d been in Martin’s shoes, his heart still whole.</p><p>He hopes what he told Martin about healing was right.</p><p> </p>
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